Crossroads
by DarklingDragon
Summary: In the dead of the night a young Harry Potter will make a choice that will change the course of history and toss him on the path of the forsaken. HPDG -CURRENTLY BEING REWRITTEN-
1. Prologue  Out of the Fire

A/N: Hello! This is my first attempt at fanfiction so I'd really appreciate some good ole' constructive criticism from you guys. So here we go…

**Full Summary**: In the dead of the night seven-year-old Harry Potter is left for dead at a crossroads in the middle of nowhere. What occurs next will forever change the path of The-Boy-Who lived; he has turned his back on the path of the light and has chosen the chosen the path of the forsaken. The Wizarding World continues on in blissful ignorance…until now.

**Pairing:** Okay people, this story will not I repeat will _**not**_ be focused on romance. This story will be centered on Harry's struggles and eventual metamorphosis into a powerful and capable wizard. But there will be a pairing, as it is important to move forward a key point in the plot. The pairing will be **Harry Potter/Daphne Greengrass.**

**Rating: M**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or anything associated with it. The Harry Potter franchise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am doing this purely for my own amusement and at no profit.**

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Prologue – Out of the Fire 

_31__st__ October, 3:45 am_

It was unnaturally silent. The waning moon hung suspended in the pitch-black night and the darkness seemed to stretch on for eternity. Not a creature stirred. Even the restless wind seemed to cease its playful banter. Indeed, there was something odd about the normally bland Privet Drive this night. A quiet pop and a rustle of cloth penetrated the eerie silence that blanketed the neighborhood. A soft _click clack click clack _could be heard echoing on the smooth pavement. It grew steadily louder until the silhouette of a man could be seen.

He was a tall, almost frail looking man, adorned in the most flamboyant clothes imaginable. A long, purple, velvety cloak swished elegantly around his ankles when he walked and high-heeled boots with silver buckles painted a powerful, if not eccentric figure. His long slivery beard was tucked into a soft brown leather belt and bright blue eyes burned with life behind half moon spectacles. The man was most unusual indeed. In fact, had it been daylight the poor man would have surely been subjected to Mrs. Number six and nines' loud whispers and scornful glances. With quiet confidence, he strode down the street until he reached number four Privet Drive.

The house was no different than any other of the houses that lined the street. Bland and disgustingly normal, it seemed unlikely that the odd man would be met with anything similar to welcome. Never the less the old man looked undeterred. A tawny cat was perched rigidly on the lawn of number four with is gaze fixed stubbornly on the house.

"Ah, Professor McGonagall what brings you here?", the man questioned benevolently as he reached into the folds of his robe. He pulled out a silver pocket watch and studied it with apparent interest. A long spindly finger reached up to push his glasses up. He turned his focus to the stern cat and gave it a fond smile.

The cat looked up sharply at the man. In the blink of an eye a severe looking woman stood in the cat's place. She had rectangular spectacles and black hair knotted in a tight bun. After dusting off her emerald robes carelessly, she spun around angrily on her heel to face the man.

"_Albus Dumbledore", _she intoned quietly, "How _could _you do this?" her voice quavered slightly with suppressed anger. Her figure radiated suppressed fury.

"You know Lily and James would not have wanted this." Professor McGonagall whispered harshly. "They wouldn't have wanted any of this. Why, they must be rolling in their graves!"

"Professor-", he began wearily as if he had had this conversation many times past. A look of remorse passed over his weathered face but it was quickly masked by the serene calm he wore previously. He straitened his posture slightly and began again. 

"It had to be done, my dear, had I not young Mister Potter would be in ever more danger than he already is in." He stared into the darkness seemingly lost in thought; a world-weary aura weighed on his slight frame.

"But surely, _surely _there must be another way just think of how he'll feel when he finds out!" Minervra exclaimed, her voice quickly growing louder. Her eyes flashed in anger.

" And those _muggles_ ", she spat. Her features became pinched in her anger, "just think of what will happen if he—"

Dumbledore, who had previously been listening to her rant unfazed, quickly cut her off. His gaze sharpened and the earlier twinkle appeared in his eyes again.

"I believe I see Hagrid and it looks as if…yes, he does have young Mister Potter." He observed quietly as he squinted slightly to see in the dark. Professor McGonnagal quickly turned into the direction he was staring at. The anger receded slightly from her face at the youngest Potter's arrival. Together the two stood side by side and waited.

The loud rumbling roar of a motorcycle echoed across the night.

_1__st__ November 7:15 am_

Petunia Dursley was a miserable woman who delighted in the misfortune of others and prided her self on her family's utter normalcy. She was a woman of routine and today was no exception. Every day at 5:00 in the morning she would rise up out of bed and tend to her precious Duddykins. At 5:15, Mrs. Dursley would take a shower and at 5:30 she began breakfast for her husband. _"Such a handsome and strong man nothing like that freaky Potter",_ she thought derisively. She shoved the memories of a good-looking man with dark hair deep into the recesses of her mind. Vernon was by far the most handsome. She had the better husband there was no doubt about it.

Petunia delighted in thinking of all the ways she was better than her nasty sister. After all, who would ever want to be like that odd Lily Evans. She puttered around the house like the dutiful wife she was. Without all that unnaturalness she severely doubted her sister would be able to survive a day. _"I'd serve her right if she did lose those stupid parlor tricks she loves to flaunt." _She thought acerbically. She stabbed her knife viciously into a chunk of ham, her thin lips twisted in an ugly sneer. The warm rays of light began to filter through the glass window. With a glance at the pristine grandfather clock in the sitting room Petunia quickly walked to the kitchen to get the empty milk bottles. After all, Petunia was nothing if not punctual. Pushing all thoughts of ungrateful sisters' aside Mrs. Dursley swung open the front door and bent down to set the milk bottle by the door…

And she was promptly met with a pair a luminous emerald eyes watching her inquisitively. A piercing shriek seared through the morning. And as the sun rose majestically, throwing its rays across the quiet street Harry James Potter was cast into his living nightmare.

_Unknown Location_

A dark figure stumbled furtively down the winding street of Spinner's End. The person darted into the gap between a moldy wooden fence and brick building. It cursed quietly when its cloak caught on a protruding piece of wood. Most of the buildings were old and in various states of destruction. The figure pulled out a slender piece of wood from the folds of the dark cloak. The person thrust it out with a flourish and hissed something unintelligible under it's breath.

"Can't hide from me…" The unknown form cackled as it shifted excitedly from foot to foot. A pudgy hand tucked the wooden stick back into the cloak and set off with a brisk pace. The shadow of an unkempt brick house came into view. Like the other houses that lined the street it looked as if it hadn't been fixed in decades. The figure sniffed in disdain at the house. Slowly the person waddled up the creaky steps and lifted up a meaty fist to bang harshly on the door. After several beats, the doorknob twisted and pulled open a fraction.

The figure shoved its face into the opening and pulled the wooden stick out again.

"Remember me…?" It said with a sing song voice. A high laugh echoed down the quiet street of Spinner's End.

* * *

**A/N: So this is the revised edition of my story. I read through the original and found a lot of misspellings and grammar mistakes. It was really irking me to I decided to take the story down and revise it and here it is. I tweaked some of the scenes and added a couple to clarify things and to give the readers a better sense of Harry's character.**


	2. And Into the Frying Pan

**Warning:**** This chapter contains explicit descriptions of blood, gore, child abuse, and depraved insanity. You have been warned; if you don't like it then don't read okey doke? No worries though, this story will **_**not**_** turn into an emo fest in which Harry angsts about his terrible life. This will be the only chapter where Harry is abused.**

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or anything associated with it. The Harry Potter franchise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am doing this purely for my own amusement and at no profit.

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Chapter 1 – And Into the Frying Pan

_November 29__th__ 1988_

Harry Potter had always loved the dark. Darkness was freedom in a sense. It was the only time he could be himself without fear of repercussion. "_Yes_," he thought somewhat apathetically as he slumped in the cramped space_. "Night was the best time of the day." _The ceiling banged on his head harshly every time he shifted in a different position. Most children feared the dark. They begged for light or scrambled into their parent's beds. They shivered at childish fears of imaginary terrors in the dark of the night. But Harry Potter had always been different from the other children. Always the odd one out …the freak no one wanted to befriend. Childish jeers and sharp words echoed in his head as he let himself think.

"_Idiot…"_

"…_freak"_

"…_stupid child…"_

"…_ungrateful wretch…"_

"_Now, Harry you know it's not good to tell lies…"_

He shook his head vigorously as if to throw out the cruel memories tormenting him. Inky black hair flopped in all directions making it more mussed than usual. Harry was a scrawny child, all skinny limbs and protruding elbows. Not dangerously underfed though cause Aunt Petunia would never tolerate the rumors. The proud, normal Dursleys mistreating their nephew! Why what nonsense. "_He takes after his father," _Aunt Petunia would simper, "_That Potter fellow was always of a delicate build, nothing like my Vernon…"_

He had large liquid green eyes that almost seemed too large for his face and knobby knees that Dudley loved to poke fun at. Thrusting his thin arm out Harry fumbled around for his glasses on the dusty floor. Grinning in satisfaction when he found them, he quickly slid them on his nose and settled into a more comfortable position to wait for Aunt Petunia's wake up call.

Aunt Petunia was a tall skinny woman who bared a remarkable resemblance to a horse; of course Harry would never say this out loud lest he be punished. In spite of the fear of repercussions, he let out a muffled giggle at the thought of Aunt Petunia the horse. A creak of the floorboard quickly washed away all traces of amusement. Dust fell irritatingly on his hair. In that moment he was overcome with a surge of hot jealousy. It just wasn't _fair. _Why should he have to sleep in this musty old cupboard when Dudley had two rooms? He dare not ask though. A shiver worked its way up his spin as he vividly remembered the first and last time he had asked why he had to sleep under the cupboard.

But still he thought with childish impudence, he should get a room of his own too. All the other children at school had rooms of their own why couldn't he have one? Was he really such a "naughty stupid brat", as Petunia loved to sneer at him. He wrapped his bony arms around his knees and rocked slightly to pass the time. He hummed quietly an inane tune he had heard the children at school sing during break. Three sharp raps to the door of his cupboard and the slide of metal on metal signaled Aunt Petunia's presence.

The rickety door swung open and the figure of a woman came into view. Long necked and with a distasteful sneer firmly in place Aunt Petunia barked:

"Well boy, get _up_!"

"Get up, _get up_, honestly you're just like that whore of a mother of yours!" she spat quietly as she grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pulled his frail body out of the cupboard.

Spinning around angrily on her heel she shot him one last look of revulsion before marching down the hall into the kitchen. Her high heel's made sharp smacks on the smooth hard wood floor. Scrambling quickly to his feet and stifling the sudden urge to run as far away as he could; Harry quickly followed after his Aunt Petunia into the kitchen.

* * *

Timidly, Harry pushed open the swinging door and walked up to his Aunt to await instructions. He forced himself to cease his fidgeting. Aunt Petunia hated unnecessary movement.

"Set the table, boy." She said lowly.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." Harry murmured softly and shuffled over to the cabinets to retrieve the dishes. Quickly he began pulling out the pristine yellow plates. Two for Uncle Vernon, one for Aunt Petunia and the green plastic plate with the purple monster on it that Dudley insisted upon using everyday.

"_No!_ You whelp!"

Her sudden outburst startled him so much that he dropped the yellow plate he had been holding. It crashed to the floor with a loud shatter and he watched the shards of ceramic fall to the ground, tremble and fall still, oddly mesmerized. Vice like claws latching onto his shoulder snatched him out of his revere. Roughly, he was spun around to meet his Aunt's furious glare.

"Look! Look at what you've done!" she snarled, gesturing wildly to the mess on the floor. He slowly tuned his gaze to the floor the steady beat of his heart quickly increasing like a rabbit being chased by a fox. Blood pounded in his veins and the flight or fight instinct came in at full force. Something foreign yet familiar thrummed in his chest like a caged beast. Harder…and harder…

"You know Vernon and Dudley went to visit Marge why the _hell _are you setting their plates?" she fiercely whispered to him as she dug her nails into the soft vulnerable skin under his jaw. He stared into her murky brown eyes and was startled by the utter hatred that lurked in their depths. Hurt and soul crushing disappointment slammed into him, tears prickled at his eyes and a lump formed in his throat.

He had known his family disliked him but it had never occurred to him that they loathed his entire existence, perhaps they even wished he had died with his drunkard parents. It wasn't fair! He had tried…really he had…he had tried so hard to be accepted. Harry was a good boy. He followed the rules and never complained. Maybe his best would never be good enough. Maybe he was cursed like in those books he read in school. A sharp pain in his chest seared through him, it disappeared as quickly as it came. He was thrown back to the present when his Aunt Petunia released him with a quick movement.

"Can't that simpleton brain of yours comprehend anything?" He furrowed his brows slightly in confusion at the words "simpleton" and "comprehend" unsure of their meanings but wisely kept his mouth shut. She gave him a hard rap on both arms and shoved him out of the kitchen.

"Come." She snapped the worst of her fury seemingly abated. Relieved that he had escaped a harsher punishment for his stupidity, he meekly followed her back down the hall and out the door. The silence was deafening.

* * *

The wind nipped and pulled at Harry's oversized jumper and water seeped into his grubby trainers when they stepped outside. It was a gloomy day, clouds rumbled, and the sun was nowhere to be seen. He trudged down the cement driveway and toward the car careful to avoid puddles and mud. Aunt Petunia would be mad if he dirtied her clean car with his presence.

"Hurry up!" she said softly. Aunt Petunia was always different when they were out of the confines of the house. Almost like a different person he mused to himself as he obeyed her orders and quickened his pace. Her dislike of Harry was never displayed in public as intensely as she showed it in the confines of the house. Aunt Petunia was actually sickly sweet when they were in the presence of strangers. He didn't question it.

Harry eased himself into the back seat and then they were off. The steady hum of the engine was soothing and soon he was lulled to sleep.

…_Long unearthly howls sliced though the silence of the night_

…_high malicious laughter rang in the dead of the night …eerie golden eyes shone through the cloak of blackness_

…_the loud rumble of a motorcycle…_

_A flash of sickly green light, the suffocating presence of death left in its wake…a scream…and then…nothing…_

Emerald green eyes snapped open and lips parted in a silent gasp. Unnerved, Harry pushed himself up and massaged his aching neck. What an odd dream he thought. The dream was quickly fading away. Only bits and pieces he could remember and even those were slowly fading. Shaking his head, he looked over to his Aunt. She was driving, back rigid and every so often she'd shoot a suspicious glance at him through the rearview mirror as if she expected him to attack her. Harry turned away to look out the window. It had started to rain. Water traced thin rivulets down the window. "_Like snakes."_ he thought with childish glee. He remembered seeing a glimpse of a documentary on the tube about snakes. "_It'd sure be wicked to see one."_ he grinned to himself.

Soon enough Aunt Petunia was driving into the parking lot of a small shopping center. With a soft growl the engine stuttered to a halt and Aunt Petunia got out of the car. Obediently, Harry climbed out of the car and trailed after her toward a grocery store situated next to a flower shop. The stores were modest and like the rest of the neighborhood possessed nothing out of the ordinary. In a fit of suppressed rebellion Harry nicked three lavender blossoms from the display out side the florist shop as they passed. Giddy with the success of breaking a rule and unpunished, Harry hurried to catch up with his Aunt.

* * *

The warm gust of heated air soothed his chilled bones as Harry entered the rather large grocery store. A few people bustled about going about their daily chores. Harry silently observed the different people as he followed his Aunt down the aisles. There was a ragged looking man dressed smartly in a black suit scurrying down lane 7 toward the baby food. An old woman and a pig tailed blond girl with cherub like cheeks wandered past. The little girl tugged insistently on the old woman's arm.

"Come on Grandma!" she giggled.

"Slow down dear." The grandmother sighed in amused exasperation. Harry smiled wistfully and continued walking with his Aunt toward the vegetables and fruit.

"Here." His Aunt grumbled shoving a plastic bag at him. "Go get four apples."

On Harry's way toward the fruit section he continued to watch the different people. He had always enjoyed this game. Wondering what types of different lives these random strangers led. A mousy haired woman examined the carrots with a critical eye and a French couple idled near the stack of pumpkins chatting quickly in French.

After Petunia was satisfied with everything they had the duo went to go pay. Harry glanced at the different products and eyed the Mars bars with longing. Suddenly he stumbled into his Aunt who had paused abruptly, back pulled taut. Curiously Harry looked around and saw nothing that would have caused his Aunts odd behavior. He could only see the French couple till conversing animatedly and the mousy haired woman. A shudder shimmed its way down his Aunts spine and then she continued on walking to the checkout line. Confused, Harry shrugged her usual behavior off.

* * *

The car door slammed open and Aunt Petunia stalked into the house leaving Harry to bring in the bags. Sighing, Harry climbed out of the car, opened the boot and carried the bags inside. He set the groceries near the coat rack and turned around.

_SMACK! _

Harry's head spun with the force of the blow and spots of black light danced in front of his eyes. His glasses lay shattered on the hard wood from when they were knocked off his face. A slow burning sensation began on his left cheek. Shakily, he raised his hand to his face and felt the sticky liquid from where her sharp nails dug into his flesh.

Fear bloomed in his chest and he tossed his head back and forth like a frantic animal looking for an escape. His aunt prowled closer to him and in a lighting fast movement latched onto the scruff of his neck. A low whimper of fear escaped his lips. She dragged his flailing body down to the basement. Flashes of Uncle Vernon proclaiming it would be his study room and boasting of it's state of the art soundproofed walls fluttered through his mind and he had the urge to laugh hysterically.

Desperately, he knocked his sharp elbow into her but she was unfazed. He dug his heels into the floor but it was a futile endeavor. She was too strong for his small, malnourished body to fight. Panic flared brightly in his mind and he increased his struggles. Swinging open the door, Petunia stepped in and shoved him onto the cold, unforgiving ground and turned around and exited. The door banged shut and darkness engulfed him.

Time seemed to stretch on for eternity. The steady _…drip…drip…drip _of water on the uncompleted room heightened his fear to unimaginable depths.

The door was swiftly opened and Aunt Petunia came into view carrying a large canvas satchel and a look in her eyes caused pure unadulterated fear to clench icily at his stomach. Like a predator stalking up to its prey, she slowly approached him. Smiling, she caressed his face, trailing her cold fingers down his cheek, across the bridge of his nose and over the light pink lighting bolt scar that adorned his forehead in a mockery of the touch a mother gives her child. The smile widened, stretching her pasty skin and accentuating the lines of age around her mouth and eyes. In a quick movement, she swung her hand back and backhanded him across the face.

Pain blossomed on his cheek and he couldn't prevent the swell of tears that gathered in his eyes no matter how hard he tried.

"_You." _She hissed menacingly. "You ruined everything!"

"_Everything!"_ She screeched her eyes were wild and animalistic as she paced on the concrete floor. Her pupils were blown wide making her look all the more vicious. Suddenly, she laughed and it echoed across the room; insanity colored its every note. Harry attempted to curl himself into a ball to escape the pain that was surely coming.

"But now, now I can finally get rid of you." She snarled and ugly look flashed in her eyes. And for the first time Harry thought he was going to die.

"None of those _freaks _are going to stop me." she whispered "I've waited for years…years but now ---now I see." Her hand darted into the canvas bag and pulled out a knife and a black studded belt that Harry vaguely recalled as belonging to Uncle Vernon.

"I've always hated Lily's eyes, everyone used to comment on them."

"Lily this and Lily that with her pretty green eyes and delicate hands…an artist hands they said…"she trailed off with a high pitched cackle.

"_Oh, _how I hated those eyes." she murmured. "Beautiful green eyes…"

And then she pounced, knife in hand, he could see the light glinting dangerously off its pointed peak and then he saw nothing. White-hot agony exploded through him and he screamed in pure pain. Something stirred in the pit of his stomach and then hard steel slammed into his eyes again. Jelly like liquid and hot rivers of blood pored out of his ruined eyes. And then he was cast into a world of pain.

* * *

_November 30__th__ 3:33am_

A car sped down the wet, muddy, abandoned road. Mud and rainwater flew in all directions as the car's tires dug into the supple earth. With a screech, the car came to a stop in a deserted field. A tall female form could be seen dashing out of the car and frantically opening the boot. Roughly, the woman pulled out a bundle of cloth and slammed the boot shut. The woman surveyed the area with a cursory glance and clumsily ran deeper into the field.

A full moon hung in the pitch-black night like a large silver orb and not a star was to be seen. The battering wind slowed and halted. The woman glanced around nervously, quickening her pace. She stopped at an unused dirt road and dumped the bundle in the middle of the slick path. Giving the oddly shaped lump on last look she scurried back to her car. The growl of an engine signaled her departure.

The lump shifted slightly causing the cloth to pull away to reveal the mutilated body of Harry James Potter. Eyes viscously gouged out, his hands had only stumps where his fingers should have been, blood matted his hair and his clothes were torn in various places. Every breath he took felt like daggers repeatedly slamming into his stomach.

Terror clawed at his heart because truly he didn't want to die. He had so much he had wanted to do. He choked violently. He felt like he was drowning.

"_No…no…no" _he chanted weakly in his mind. His throat felt slick and wet making it difficult to swallow. The hard tang of copper filled his nose and mouth. Harry gagged at the sensation.

The pain was going away and relief swelled up within him. Numb, that's how he felt numb. The last thing he heard before his heart flickered and died was the long howls of dogs. And then he fell into sweet nothingness.

* * *

_November 30__th__ 5:45am_

Petunia Dursley pulled into her driveway feeling a sense of peace she hadn't felt in years. She tugged the key out of the ignition and stepped out of the car.

_Crunch_

She spun around to face the source of the noise and was met with a pair of dark brown eyes.

"_Obliviate!"_

And then nothing…


	3. And From the Ashes

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or anything associated with it. The Harry Potter franchise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am doing this purely for my own amusement and at no profit.

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"_The Earth began to bellow, trees to dance_

_And howling dogs in glimmering light_

_advance_

_Ere Hekate came."_

_The Aeneid, book VL. Virgil_

* * *

Chapter 2 – And from the Ashes…

The wind swayed and crooned sweet nothings into the night. The very earth itself trembled. Whether in fear or excitement, it is unknown. Otherworldly cries and howls rose and fell mingling with the wind's constant rumblings. The dull thump of solid objects meeting the ground rang through the air. Blurred shapes could be seen emerging from the forest at the edge of the field and ghostly apparitions yowled in pleasure at the moon.

Huge hulking dogs with coats of silky black fur that seemed to suck the light out from around them trembled in excitement. They threw their massive heads back and sang to the silver orb in the sky. The beasts were inhumanly large, almost bear-like in their size.

Golden eyes shifted around with the gaze of a predator. They pawed at the ground restlessly glancing to and fro as if waiting for someone or something.

Suddenly the dogs ceased their fidgeting and turned as one toward the forest. Dark tendrils began to form. The shadows darkened and seemed to come alive. Any lingering light shied away from the writhing shadows. Slowly the darkness curled and lengthened forming a column of pure darkness. The mass twisted in one sharp move and dissipated.

A woman slowly emerged, her strides brimming with animalistic grace. The air rippled around her and pure power rolled off her in gentle waves. Raven hair fell in a soft waterfall down her back. Her lithe body swayed to an unknown melody as she stepped closer to the panting beasts that awaited her.

"_Chairetismata."_ She murmured softly to the dogs. Her obsidian eyes shone with affection as she looked upon them.

"It's been so long…so long…" she sighed and the dogs whined at their mistress's displeasure.

Twisting her neck, she focused on the drab field that stretched out before her. Dark eyes widened in shock and pleasure when she spied the beaten dirt road that lied at the heart of the field. She threw her head back and let out a laugh of pure delight.

"It has been long since someone has practiced the old ways." She remarked to her companions as she walked toward the crossroads.

Entwining her fingers through the dying stalks, she pushed and a path appeared leading to the roads. She put her slender fingers to her lips and gave a sharp whistle. The animals barreled to her at the noise. Nodding her head, she continued on, the dogs following in her wake. Despite the muddy earth, none of the muck touched her body and she remained as clean as she was when she arrived.

She came to a sudden halt when she reached the crossroads, her eyes darkened in a terrible fury. The features of her face morphed into something distinctly inhuman. Her eyes narrowed as she stared intensely had the broken body of the child. As suddenly as her anger had come it was gone. It slid off her face like water on glass.

"'Tis a pity, such a pity." She shook her black mane regretfully. Folding her legs she settled down next to the child. Delicately, she brushed the stringy, matted hair out of his face to get a better look. With a snap of her fingers all the blood, dirt, and bodily fluids were removed from the child's body.

"There that's much better, can't have you walking into the Fields of Asphodel looking like tha—" she broke off with a sharp gasp of shock. She pressed closer staring in awe.

"By Zeus…" she breathed tracing the now visible lighting shaped scar with her fingertips. Scrunching up her nose slightly in concentration she pressed her index finger roughly to his cold scar. She tensed for several seconds and then broke away. With a considering gaze she studied him. A look of determination and a quick flash of greed crossed her beautiful face. _"Oh he'd be ever so pleased…"_

"No, no this won't due at all." She said to herself. She tilted her head up to the sky and stared at the full moon. Looking confident, she turned to the dogs that had gathered around the boy, one of the pups snuffled curiously at his hair, a smile curled at her lips. Thrusting back her shoulders, she took a deep breath and slipped her eyes shut. With an inhumanly fast movement she slammed her palm down on the dead child's uniquely shaped scar and laughed with wicked delight.

* * *

"_Screams…No! Not Harry _

…_please…_

…_please…me instead_

…_Insane laughter …a man with long raven hair…black dog…_

…_pain…freak…_

…_a chalky grinning face looming before him with crimson eyes…_

Sight. Sound. Touch. Taste. A myriad of senses blurred together, warping and twisting themselves along his sensitive nerves. Whirlwinds of sensations rushed through his body. Pain. Pleasure. Lust. Hatred. Love. Harry's back arched off the ground like a taut bow. Bones snapped into place with sickening squelches and crunches only to disintegrate one by one. Each bone was reformed in an instant, far stronger than they were previously.

Internal organs melted and dissolved and then regenerated. Brand new cells forming, splitting, and interconnecting with others at an inconceivable rate. Muscle and skin melted and slid away from the bones and were re grown flawlessly.

All physical deficiencies were painfully erased. Diseases, allergies, physical flaws were all wiped away leaving a clean slate. The emerald eyes that Aunt Petunia had so envied were regenerated back to their original state. His poor eyesight repaired.

At last the pain came to a stop, his back relaxed and lowered to the ground. Lips were still parted in a silent scream. Gradually the tremors that racked his body slowed and his breathing settled to soft gasps. Harry blinked slowly and knocked his head back to the soft earth gently. Now that the torture had ended confusion ran rampant through his brain. Befuddlement and fear warred for dominance in his head as the world swam into focus.

The first thing he noticed was that everything was impossible clear. A ladybug crawling lazily on a leaf several meters away, the bark of a sickly tree on the side of the road, and the individual splintered ends of a broken stalk of wheat swaying gently with the breeze. Harry's eyes widened in amazement. Every thing was so…so different. He sucked in a breath in awe everything was so intense. And the colors! They were so pretty. Poignant and blindly sharp.

Slowly he pushed himself up on his elbows to sit up. A soft groan of pain escaped him as his weary muscles and bones shifted. He felt raw, like all his nerve endings were exposed to the slightest touch. With a grimace he took a proper look at his surroundings and was met with the gaze of the most terrifying woman he had ever seen. She wasn't ugly, far from it in fact, but there was something about her presence that inspired fear. The woman turned her penetrating gaze toward him a sly smile playing at her full lips. She was made even more fearsome by the huge animals that circled her protectively.

"Greetings, my child." Her voice rang musically. There was some unidentifiable emotion in her eyes as her dark eyes met his green ones.

Frightened, he scrambled away from her. When he had put a couple of meters between himself and the strange woman he called out with false bravado:

"Who're you?" and without pausing for an answer he continued on " And where am I? You better tell me 'cause my mum and dad are gonna come lookin' for me."

The woman chuckled lightly," Which parents do you speak of?"

"The James and Lily Potter who lie rotting beneath the earth as we speak? Or perhaps you're _loving _Aunt who left you here to die?" her mocking voice cause him to flinch violently back. Memories of his Aunt Petunia's cruel face and her insane ramblings rushed though his head. He remembered now how he had came to be here, his head shook in futile denial.

"_NO! _You're a liar!" he shouted, but even as the words passed his lips he knew it was true. Petunia Dursley had killed him, or tried to kill him. Fat tears of misery dripped down his face. She had tried to kill him.

"You know I speak the truth my child," she said unmoved by his verbal assault. "She _killed_ you." She crept closer to him as if approaching a wild animal. Lowering herself to his level, she threaded her slender fingers through his hair and despite himself he couldn't stop himself from leaning into her touch. She tugged him closer to lean against her bosom and pressed her mouth to the shell of his ear.

"And I saved you…" she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. He shivered at the sensation. Then her words caught up with him. _"Killed me?" _Then how was he alive? It was impossible it defied logic. No one could bring back to dead. He gasped slightly as her arms tightened around him in a vice grip, almost possessively.

" I brought you back from the realms of death itself. I created and destroyed you; flesh to dust; dust to bone." She crooned into his ear. Her long hair tickled his face as she spoke.

"Do you wish to live?" she questioned him softly. He remembered the gut wrenching agony of his death and then the utter peace that settled upon him as he sunk into the abyss. No pain, worries, feelings, disappointment…just nothing. And for a moment he hesitated. The allure of escape and freedom was almost too strong to resist. And then he remembered…

"Yes, I want to live." He said strongly. Petunia's face contorted in malicious glee and she brought the studded belt down on his back over and over seared through his retinas. The seeds of hatred sunk into his conscience. He'd show them, those stupid gits who ignored his cries for help. The Dursleys who took his love and threw it back in his face and mocked him, he'd make them sorry.

"Very well." She said simply, but her eyes betrayed her glee. She gave him a knowing look. His head throbbed uncomfortably and his limbs still felt like jelly, but in spite of this a sense of something burned through his body. It buzzed just beneath his skin, through his nervous system, and settled heavily in the pit of Harry's stomach like a cat settling down for a nap. As if she had sensed Harry's restlessness she released him from the confines of her arms and spoke.

"You are a special case. Did you know? So much potential, yes…" she murmured as she gave him a once over with apparent self-satisfaction. He stared wide-eyed at her, still unsure what was going on.

"I have done you a great favor and as all favors must not go unpaid, I will ask you for something in return." She continued. A spike of anxiousness struck him at her remark.

"You see I have a problem…"

* * *

"So do we have a deal?" she inquired, eyes flashing with an alien emotion.

"Y-yes." Harry said with a slight waver of hesitation as he thought back to their earlier conversation. "Yeah, we have a deal."

She smiled in dark delight at his answer. "Good.Good"

"You shall be the best, a perfect warrior in every way." She said quietly. Harry couldn't tell if she was talking to herself or him. He studied her with keen eyes as she paced.

"But first you must prove you worth. For what's a warrior without experience?" she said, flipping her long tresses with a no-nonsense attitude. She flicked her wrist and Harry turned to see a shadowy substance detach itself from a near by tree and zoomed towards him. It twisted and curled around his left bicep almost as if it was alive. He watched it mesmerized, the dark mass separating and connecting until it formed a band of indecipherable runes on his arm that seemed to repel light. He gaped at it. He looked up with a sharp jerk only to see the woman and ghostly dogs had disappeared. Then he heard her melodious voice both terrible and beautiful at once.

"Like all mortals you have proven you can die…

…But can you live?"

And then she was gone.

* * *

_Several hours later, Location: Deep inside an unknown forest_

Harry stumbled over a gnarled tree root and his arms flailed comically before he regained his balance. "_Now that's true grace," _he thought, "_to be able to catch yourself before you fall_." With a foolish grin plastered on his face he continued onward. He pondered all the things he had learned. Droplets of water sprinkled on his head from the leaves on the trees and mud was caked to his clothes. He couldn't believe it, it seemed too impossible to be real but he could not ignore the facts. Magic was real. He felt giddy just thinking about it. The possibilities, the things he could do. When he had thought about getting revenge on Petunia he had assumed he would do it with a knife, poison, or maybe a gun if he could get a hold of one. There were times when he had sat beaten in the confines of his cupboard that he had allowed himself to bring all the hatred, pain, and hurt to the surface. It was in those times, in the cold hours of the night that he would fantasize about the things he could do to them for every punch and cruel word ever spoken to him.

But in the day he forced himself to become their meek stupid servant who was incapable of higher thought. The façade had saved him from many _ah_…sticky situations. But now, now that he had magic…oh the things he could do. The woman had told him that he was a part of a select part of the population that had the power to do seemingly impossible things. Usually, children displayed magic early in childhood but according to the woman his magic had been bound. Fury surged through his veins, hot and unrelenting. When he found out who did it he would make them regret it. He'd have to find the wizards first. Apparently they lived hidden away from the normal people, why though he had no idea. If they could do all these feats why did they hide away?

All the normal people, or muggles he thought the woman called them, didn't deserve to run amuck. And now that he thought of it, neither did the wizards, if they were so cowardly that they hid away from beings obviously inferior to themselves they didn't deserve that power. He would be different he thought to himself. All that knowledge to be gained, Harry Potter wouldn't stop until he was second to none.

A spiky vine wrapped around his ankle startling him out of his musings. The trees were thinning out and light was beginning to seep through the branches. Up ahead he could see a clearing with a sparkling pond in the middle of it. He couldn't believe he had traveled so far, he barely felt tired. Jogging toward the pond he quickly closed the distance. Harry pushed his fringe out of his eyes and knelt down to get a drink of water. He was quite parched. _"Dying will do that to you."_ he thought sardonically. Harry looked down and then jumped back with a strangled yell. Eyes wide with shock he edged closer to look at his reflection.

He peered at himself in the pond astonished. It was him yet it was not. His features looked vaguely the same, but his face looked as if an artist had enhanced and shifted his features until they reached perfection. He cocked his head to the side taking in his ethereally beautiful looks. Suddenly a memory came to mind from his earlier conversation with the woman.

"_There will be side effects to our little agreement." She smirked. "After all you are to be a living weapon. And a weapon is useless if it does not draw its prey to itself like bees' to honey." She twisted around to look at him appraisingly as she absently fingered the silver dagger strapped to her hip._

Perhaps this was what she meant? Harry leaned over to get a better look but his foot slipped on the wet rocks and he fell headfirst into the surprisingly deep pond. The cold shocked his system and he instinctively started kicking his legs until he reached the surface. He tossed his head back and took a deep breath of air and shook his head vigorously like a dog. Harry's eyes swept around, taking in his environment only to find himself in a completely different place.

He stood dumbfounded in a pond near the edge of a bustling town square. Creatures of all shapes and sizes pushed and shoved each other as they passed. Huge towering structures of obsidian, stone, and wood dotted the land. A strange red vine like plant was embedded into the stone roads and creeped up the sides of the massive buildings. In the distance he could see something that looked like the colosseum he read about in school. Different languages filtered through his ears as the human and non-humans bartered and argued.

"Wicked…" Harry breathed. There was so much to see. Everywhere he turned there was some new fascinating object or person to observe. With a hungry grin, Harry Potter dashed into the crowed and vanished.


	4. He Shall Rise

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or anything associated with it. The Harry Potter franchise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am doing this purely for my own amusement and at no profit.

* * *

Chapter 3 – He Shall Rise…

_1996, Unknown Location_

Pandemonium filled the air. The howls and hoots of men and women were the only sounds that could be heard for miles. Wild eyes greedy for the spill of blood on earth and the strike of flesh on flesh peered out from stands that seemed to stretch on for eternity. Feet slammed down on the obsidian aisles sending an ominous drum beat across the stadium. Creatures of all shapes and sizes crowed enthusiastically and hung over the rails that kept them from plummeting to a bloody death with bated breath.

A cruel smirk tugged at the corners of Harry Potter's lips. Adrenaline pumped like liquid fire through his veins. Every nerve was alight with the anticipation of violence. His muscles were pulled taut as he stood unflinchingly at the center of the chaos. Vivid green eyes gazed unnerved at the screeching and yells that echoed around him. A shiver of excitement ran through his body as he took in the familiar surroundings of The Colesseum. He smirked lightly at the name. "_Uncreative bastards."_ he thought with amusement.

The ground beneath his feet pulsed in time with his heartbeat. Fine threads of the red vine that grew throughout the city were interwoven intricately into the dark obsidian ground painting the entire arena in crimson stripes. He eyed them with mild interest; the novelty had worn off after the first couple of years. Cocking his head to the side in a rather dog-like manner, he watched the unusual vine twist and shimmer. He lifted his eyes up lazily to see the announcers cabin stationed at the top of the stands. A commotion broke out to his right. A rather enthusiastic woman some how managed to toss herself from the stands. Her body hit the ground a few meters to his right with a dull thump. Harry's lip curled slightly in distaste as a splash of blood was thrown on his leather boots. He huffed in irritation and glanced impatiently at the announcer, unfazed by the medi-wizards attempting to scrape the mangled woman's body off the ground.

" _I teper' zhenschiny i gospoda ya dayu Vam Bone Breaker protiv nerazrushennogo __**HADRIAN!"**_

Harry's head snapped up at the sound of his name, a bloodthirsty grin spreading across his handsome face. Since arriving at the city and discovering his rather unique history he had decided to use his full first name. Harry's full name was not known by many so it would be less likely to be connected to the name Harry Potter. Despite Harry Potter being officially pronounced dead nearly a decade ago, he didn't want to take any chances. He wouldn't put it past those spineless cowards to grab any poor sod off the street unfortunate enough to be named Harry and proclaim him their savior back from the dead. Harry was not foolish or naïve enough to think he could waltz into Britain and not be made into some sort of martyr. He would not allow himself to be used, the greater good be damned.

He rolled his eyes at the announcers babbling. He wished they could just get on with it already. Rapid Russian spilled from the gangly announcer as he detailed past accomplishments and spurred on the crowd's excitement. Suddenly ravenous crowd fell silent. The gate opposite of Harry creaked open slowly and the shadow of a bear of a man could be seen. Bright balls of light appeared at the top of the Colesseum. They quickly formed a circle high above the spectators' heads illuminating the fighting arena and draping the stands in the shadows.

Harry looked at his latest challenger unsurprised. The man was older than him by at least a decade. Straw colored hair was matted around his round head and wild eyes glared out from tanned skin. Twisted pink scars disfigured the left side of his face, the result of a bad run in with a werewolf if he recalled correctly. He had met the lycanthrope a couple of days ago at the Sixth District while he was stocking up on food. They ended up getting into an argument over food of all things. How that happened he didn't know. Idly, he wondered if he was such a bastard that people hated him on sight. He pondered this for a second be for deciding he was just too damn adorable to hate. He smirked arrogantly as he faced the man, whatever the hell his name was. This seemed to infuriate the man even more.

The man had moved up to the center of the arena and was shooting him looks of pure loathing. Harry observed his movements for a couple of seconds, mentally cataloguing that the werewolf seemed to favor his right side and was quite twitchy. He filed the information away for later and stalked up to the man.

The man spat out a string of insults at him in German. His meaty fists curled tight at his sides. Spittle flew from his mouth has he continued his crude ramblings.

"_Awww_…come on now, tell me how you _really_ feel." Harry said flippantly just as the announcer began the count down. The man flushed red in fury and was just about to retort when the announcer's voice rang out.

"_**NACHAT'!"**_

The crowd roared and Harry exploded into action. He twisted his body gracefully to avoid a sickly yellow beam of light. His wand fell into his hand with one smooth flick of the wrist. He bared his teeth in a mockery of a grin and charged forward.

"_Diripio!" _he snapped, thrusting his wand out at the werewolf. A dark violet light shot out from the end of his wand. The older man was forced to dive frantically to the side to avoid getting ripped into pieces. Harry twirled his wand in a complicated motion while murmuring an incantation in German. Just as the man had pulled himself up a black ball of light that reeked of dark energy slammed into his stomach. The man wailed in pain and clawed desperately at his eyes.

Satisfaction burned through him. Victory was sweet. He lifted his wand to deliver the killing blow when the man vanished. His mind raced, it was impossible for any type of teleportation to work in the Colosseum. _"Illusion…"_ he thought cursing his stupidity. Bloody hell he was really off his game today. He whirled around just in time to see a white beam of light strike his shoulder with enough force to throw him off his feet and slide back several meters. He groaned painfully as he felt his shoulder pop out of its socket and rolled to his side to avoid a nasty blood-boiling curse. Pushing aside the pain he sprung back up to his feet with cat like grace.

Perhaps not as incompetent as he had initially thought, he'd have to reevaluate the man. He flicked his wrist down and snarled _"Aduro!"_ Hot flames streaked out of his wand impacting the man on his left arm.

The man screamed shrilly, batting at his arm with his wand. It took a while before the man regained enough sense to conjure water to put out the fire. Meanwhile, Harry used the time the man was flailing around to push his shoulder back into place. He rolled his shoulders and grimaced in discomfort. He sneered at the man and flung out a bone shredding curse, he was feeling particularly vindictive. The curse hit its mark and he was rewarded with the hoarse cries of his opponent.

Prowling forward, he raised his wand again and stared into the pleading and hatred filled blue eyes.

"_Crucio!" _he barked and the crowd went wild. The intoxicating power swam though him. Heady energy clouded his senses, pleasure fogged up his brain and the man screamed and screamed. He ended the curse with a sharp jerk of his wand. He grinned sadistically at the shivering man and his arm flashed forward in a lightening fast movement. Harry lifted the man's head up by his hair; he could hear the dull roar of the crowd in the background pounding in his ears. Blood lust thrummed through him. He placed his other hand under the man's jaw and with a brutal twist he snapped the pitiful creature's neck.

* * *

Fifty galleons richer, Harry Potter sauntered out of the Colosseum, blood still singing from the fight. He felt loose and relaxed as shrugged on his black leather trench coat. Nothing like a good brawl to get the blood flowing he mused to himself. Confidently, he strode out of the gates and into the Seventh District. He craned his neck back to eye a rather busty blond as she passed. She gave him a flirtatious wink and he grinned charmingly in response.

Harry lived in one of the few purely magical cities in the world. Ultra Silvan was located in the heart of Transylvania completely hidden from muggles by numerous charms. It was a place whispered about in fear by many wizards and witches. It was the only place on the world that had no form of Aurors. He chuckled quietly. It was truly ironic that the one city that had no Aurors had the least problems with crime. Hell, there wasn't even a prison. One would think that this would inspire only chaos, in fact many of the Wizarding populous were under this impression, but this was not the case.

The Ultra Silvan was a large area of land shaped into a perfect circle. It was divided into seven districts. The First District was north and contained a sprawling library. The Second District was the training grounds and weaponry shops. The Third District was where the ministry was situated. It was there that all the citizens were registered and the current laws were posted. The city also had a decent sized garden overflowing with rare and mundane magical plants. Districts Five and Six consisted of recreational shops and the market respectively.

It was in District Seven that Harry lived, the most magically powerful of all the districts. It was reserved for the elite and powerful be it magically or financially powerful. And Harry Potter was nothing if not powerful. No violence was tolerated in the Seventh District; any violation of this law was meet with a long and bloody death. It was an area reserved for the formation of business alliances without having to fear being literally stabbed in the back. Once you stepped out though you were fair game. Only a select few were allowed to live in the Seventh District.

Harry took a left and continued on until he reached a stone stairway that led down. He climbed down two flights before he reached an elevator like contraption. He stepped into the large black cage and bent his neck down to examine the panel.

"Decision…decisions." He muttered softly. He shook his windblown ebony locks out of his eyes with irritation. A frown marred his features as he scrutinized the Russian inscribed on the panel.

"_Ah_…what the hell." He remarked, squeezed his eyes shut and randomly jabbed his finger in a button.

"_You have selected Black Market, District Four, Books. Enjoy your shopping, sir." _A clear female voice rang.

"Yeah, yeah." Harry muttered. He leaned back against the cage as it began to move. A loud ring and the clanging of the cage opening signaled his stop. He stepped out into an underground cavern filled with people arguing and bartering. The noise grated on his ears harshly.

"I sense a headache coming on…" he sighed. He surveyed the merchant's booths before spying one stacked with books written in a strange language. Squiggly lines covered the book that flickered when the light hit them just so. Viridian eyes widened slightly.

"Bloody hell." His lips curved into a grin as he walked briskly to the merchant's table. Rudely, he shoved at a wiry man standing in his way and stalked past.

"Hey! You mothe- " The man cut himself off looking at Harry with poorly disguised terror.

"S-sorry." He grunted and practically ran away. Harry smirked in pleasure at the man's display. Now that was power. Ego sufficiently boosted, he headed to the stack of musty books that had caught his attention earlier. He carefully blanked his face of any interest and casually leaned against the table.

"So Brian you have anything new come in?" he said in smooth Russian. He looked over the books with mild interest before dismissing them. He craned his head around to view the other merchant's products. The merchant, Brian, shifted in panic at the potential sale loss.

"Yes, _Yes!_ As a matter of fact I do. Just got in a new shipment today." He gestured at the books piled haphazardly on the rickety table.

"Oh?" Harry inquired, arching an eyebrow. "How much you asking for? Cause you know mate, I'm not gonna pay an arm an a leg for that pile of shite."

"_No!_ These are very rare books, just had them imported from Egypt. A lotta Cursebreakers were killed trying to smuggle these damn books out. Those Egyptian Wizards had some plain nasty enchantment's protecting them." Brian said fervently, twisting his hands in his lap.

"Really now? Rare…" Harry drawled, giving him a cold look. "So then I suppose these _priceless_ artifacts are going to be a tad expensive?"

"Well, normally I'd sell'em for no less than 200 galleon but for you…how about 150." Brain said slyly, greed shinning in his eyes beady eyes.

"No deal." Harry said sharply, his eyes glinting in anger. "75."

"125."

"90."

"105."

"Deal." Harry said quickly and slammed a sack of gold coins on the table. Brain bared his teeth in a grin.

"Pleasure doing business with ye mate."

"Yeah…_pleasure_." Harry replied his voice heavy with sarcasm. He swiftly gathered his purchases and stuffed them messily into his satchel. Tossing the man one last disdainful look, he spun around and headed home.

He pushed and twisted through the crowd. An old hag in ragged clothing attempted to sell him boiled frogs eyes. He sneered at her and continued on. The underground black market was where most of the money was made. The thousands of people and creatures that populated the Ultra Silvam routinely visited the winding underground cavern searching for some new or rare item. Millions of products were imported from around the world making it one of the most diverse markets in the world. Though the most of the merchants and their goods were on the shady side it was still a good place to shop as long as you took care not to get swindled.

Another group of chattering people shoved their way past him and he snarled viciously in response. Fuck, he hated Sundays; it was always too damn crowded. He took a left and strode angrily toward the elevator. As he passed a merchant proclaiming the superiority of his premium newts' eyes he spotted a writhing ball surrounded by a net of golden light. Harry paused to observe it. It truly was a remarkable plant. What looked like a mass of numerous snakes at first glance was actually a ball of crimson vines that seemed to pulse with a heartbeat.

The red vine was called the Cruento Combibo and it was a major power source of the city. It was situated deep underground directly under the Coloseum. When visiting the Black Market it could be seen surrounded by powerful protection charms. The Cruento Combibo was a carnivorous plant that fed off blood, which is what gave it its unique blood red color. The plant was one of the main reasons the Colosseum such a popular place. Not only did the locals find the blood shed entertaining but it also served to feed the plant which in turn emitted a powerful magical discharge. The discharge then was used to power the city.

He deftly slipped his hand through the golden net and stroked one of the vines. He grinned slightly in amusement when it shivered in pleasure. Merlin knows how much of his blood that plant had snacked on, so it damn well better like him. Giving it one last look, he backed away and headed back to his original destination. He stepped back into the cage like elevator and pushed the button that would take him to the surface.

The metal doors shuddered open several minutes later and he wandered back into the Seventh District. He went east where his flat was located. It was situated near the border between the Seventh and First District. Harry preferred to be close to the library in case he needed to look up something obscure that wasn't located in the books he possessed at his home.

Harry walked up to a rather large cottage. Several of the red vines that were abundant in the city crawled lazily up some of the walls. They blended in quite well with the dark mahogany wood the house was built of. He paused at the door and pressed his palm to an odd looking symbol etched on the wooden door. A tingle of magic surged through him as the wards verified his identity. With a soft click the door shimmered and turned transparent. Harry stepped through the door in one graceful movement. The door returned to its original solid state as soon as Harry entered the house.

Carelessly, Harry tossed his satchel into the corner. The books spilled out messily. Unperturbed, he kicked one of the books that had slid near his feet out of the way.

The house looked lived in and very untidy or artfully disheveled as Harry liked to proclaim. Parchment with strange symbols and sloppy writing were spread across the desk near the fireplace. Books were shoved into a large bookcase randomly. Despite the rampant disorganization, the house had a certain charm about it. Soft leather couches were arranged near the fire with a beautifully carved table between them.

Stomach growling in protest, Harry stumbled into the kitchen grabbing whatever he found and tossing it in between two slices of wheat bread. Groaning in satisfaction as he took a large bite out of the sandwich, he dragged himself back to the living room and sprawled ungracefully onto the chair nearest to him. His muscles were sore and he felt like sleeping for a week. He threw his head back to rest on the soft cushion of the chair. He sighed and rolled his head to the left only to see a softly bubbling cauldron in the adjacent room.

Harry jumped up and cursed loudly in Parseltongue. The potion had completely slipped his mind. The only reason he had went to the Colosseum today was because he needed the money to buy a vital ingredient for the poison he was working on. He shoved his hand in his pocket to count out how much money he had left.

"Damn…23…27…45…that should be enough." He muttered to himself as searched though the bag of money. He gave the squishy chair a wistful look before marching out the door again. Annoyance colored his every movement as he stalked down the street giving a dirty look to anyone that dared glance his way. Wisely, people steered clear of him. Most knew by now not to mess with him when he was in one of his moods and those that didn't quickly learned.

"_Hadrian! Hadrian!" _a female voice called out and his muscles twitched in pure irritation. He ignored the idiot and continued walking.

"_Hadrian! Wait!" _A dull throb began to pound at his temples. Stopping abruptly, he twisted around to come face to face with the familiar features of a woman who looked around her mid twenties. Though you never could tell with witches and wizards, they aged much slower than muggles. Her hair was the color of spun gold and she had dark amber eyes that held a certain feral quality lurking in their depths.

"Marie." He stated bluntly. "Now's not a good time. Now if you'll excuse me I have business to attend to." He turned to walk away when she reached out with almost inhuman speed to clutch at his left bicep.

"Wait, I have a job for you." She said quickly before he could pull away.

Harry tugged his arm roughly away and glared at her before her words processed though his brain.

"A job you say?" Harry asked interest lighting up his features. He turned his sharp emerald eyes to her.

"Well why didn't you say so?" He drawled out, took her by the arm and steered her toward a brick building looming in the distance.


	5. Business and Encounters

A/N: I'm a grammar freak so feel free to point out any mistakes I've made. I'd really appreciate it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or anything associated with it. The Harry Potter franchise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am doing this purely for my own amusement and at no profit.

* * *

Iskrivlennyj Povysils'a, Seventh District 

Harry and Marie entered the tall brick building. Above the entrance the words _Iskrivlennyj Povysils'a _were inscribed in loopy sliver writing. The building was moderately crowded, but not packed enough to create discomfort. The walls were painted in a deep burgundy and torches lined the room, basking the area in a dim, sultry light. _Iskrivlennyj Povysils'a_, Twisted Rose in English, was a popular bar in Ultra Silvam. It was here that many business transactions took place and alliances were formed. Harry preferred it to some of the other neutral gatherings in the Seventh District because it provided some of the strongest privacy wards around each table and they served up some of the best Vodka he ever tasted.

He led the lithe woman to a booth hidden snugly in a corner. Harry slid easily into the smooth leather booth and propped his elbows on the wooden table.

"So what's this about a job?" Harry said lowly, subtlety casting a sound barrier charm. It never hurt to be extra cautious.

"Paranoid bastard." Marie murmured under her breath spotting his movement. A hint of fondness colored her tone.

"Better paranoid than dead, love." Harry said, grinning roguishly. "So how's the pack?"

"I don't know why don't you tell me Hadrian." She shot back a waver of anger slid through her voice. "After all you just killed one of my newest pack mates in cold blood today."

"_Aww_…come now Marie, don't get mad. I had no idea the fool was one of yours. Really, I'd thought you had better standards than that." He cajoled, giving the blond woman a look of mock disapproval.

"Well I would prefer it if you refrained from slaughtering my kin whenever you please." She shot back. "I haven't got many of them since that incident in '94, so try not to include them in your little games."

"Honestly and they call us animals." She snarked, she rolled her gaze over him from head to foot.

"_Ouch!_ That hurts." Harry said sarcastically. He threw his arm over his chest dramatically as if to ward off an attack.

"Oh shut up Hadrian." She sighed in exasperation but the anger had faded from her eyes for the most part.

"You know by killing that poor sod I actually did you a favor." He said suddenly, a roguish grin forming on his face.

"A favor, huh?" She echoed back, an incredulous look spreading across her beautiful features.

"Yeah, a favor." Harry said, mischief dancing in his eyes. "You see, I was weeding out the weak for you. This way your pack can work its way up to being the killing machine I know it can."

"Aren't I a kind and generous soul?" He smirked, bringing the glass of vodka that a waiter had just set on the table up to his lips.

"Oh yeah you're a saint Hadrian." Marie said tartly. "A real saint."

"I know." Harry stated pompously. "So the job…?"

"Yes, the job. I have some kin back in England who got themselves in a rut. Apparently those idiots up at the British Ministry of Magic have been getting a little orgasmic with those Anti-Werewolf laws." She explained distastefully. Harry arched an eyebrow at her questioningly.

"Why the hell would you care 'bout those dogs in England?" He asked with genuine curiosity. She sighed.

"Normally I wouldn't give a rats ass about them but I owe the Alpha a favor. Fenrir Greyback. You heard of him?"

"Oh yeah, I've heard of him. Pretty vicious compared to those neutered house dogs up in Britain." He said leaning back onto the high-backed booth. " Likes to chew up little brats, right?"

"That's him. He's my sire and I'm bound by oath to aid him. He recently got into contact with me and requested I help him get some of those laws absolved."

"Yeah I've been hearing about those. Ever since the Dark Lord returned they've been thinking up all kinds of these crap Anti- Dark laws."

"You thinking a cover-up?" She asked, scratching random patterns on the tabletop with her long nails.

"I reckon so. The pure stupidity of that Ministry never ceases to amaze me." He said with dark amusement. He reached out to grab a handful of crisps and stuff them in his mouth. Marie scrunched up her nose in disgust.

"Wha'?" He mumbled though a mouthful of food. She rolled her eyes and ignored his antics.

"I have no idea how you ever get laid." She muttered under her breath. He shot her a look of amusement.

" The women fuck me cause I'm hot." He said matter of factly and proceeded to shove another handful of crisps into his mouth.

"Idiot." Marie said with amused exasperation. She shook her head and nodded politely at the waiter that brought a pitcher of water.

"So anyway, Greyback has his sights set on a particularly outspoken Ministry drone. Her name's Dolores Jane Umbridge. A toad of a woman if I ever saw one. So here's where you come in. I can't go to England on account of I need to watch my pack. There's been some problems lately." Marie said taking a delicate sip of her iced water.

"Terribly sorry Marie but I'm afraid I'm going to have to sit out this one." Harry said not sounding particularly sorry at all.

"Excuse me? Why the hell not?" Marie demanded.

'The weather. It dries up my skin horribly." He said with wide earnest eyes. "Like you wouldn't believe."

"You own a house in Siberia for Merlin's sake!"

"Eh…well…" He made a move to get up but her voice halted him in his tracks.

"You owe me a life debt, Hadrian." Harry sat back down, his face darkened in a terrible fury.

"Should've guessed you'd bring that up." He growled venomously. "Fine. I'll help you with you pathetic little problem." She stiffened in anger but wisely kept her mouth shut.

"So you want me to go to England and eliminate her?" Harry said as he sat up. All traces of playfulness had left his face as he took on a more business like persona.

"No not kill her. Kidnap. Fenrir wants to take care of her himself but he's too noticeable to do the job himself." Marie said cautiously to him.

"So you want me to kidnap the wench and make it look like she just up and left no foul play involved?" He asked swishing the alcohol around in his glass. Most of his earlier irritation was undetectable.

"Basically." She smiled tentatively at him. "Of course you will be paid handsomely."

"Handsomely, eh? Exactly how much would that be?" He drawled, gazing up at her through his lashes.

"1200 Galleons." She said confidently. Harry's eyes flashed with interest. 1200 Galleons could go a long way. He pondered the pro and cons of going back to England for several minutes.

"Deal. Not that I have much of a choice." He affirmed as he locked eyes with her. Marie shivered slightly; his gaze was unsettling at best. Such an odd shade of green…

"You can expect the job done in two weeks at most." He said as he eased out of the booth and stretched. His joints popped loudly. Groaning in satisfaction, he turned around to face the woman.

"Here. After you've got Umbridge contact Greyback He'll tell you what to do next." She pulled out an envelope and held it out to him.

"Well darling its been nice doing business with you but I shall have to take my leave now." He took the envelope, bowed mockingly to her and left.

* * *

_The Leakey Caldron_

A plain looking man who looked around his late twenties was reflected back at him in the dresser mirror. Harry Potter had taken great pains to disguise himself when he agreed to take a job in his homeland. He cursed Marie silently. Stealth and camouflage were Harry's specialties. He had had caution and forbearance ingrained into his head at a young age and it had stuck with him ever since. He stepped back from the mirror a few paces so he could see his entire body.

He had altered his facial structure with numerous charms and transfigurations spells before he was satisfied. Not an easy task he would be the first to say. Satisfaction burned in his now light blue eyes. The man standing before him had not the slightest resemblance to his original looks. Tidy brown hair and unnoticeable features, it was a decent disguise. It was unlikely anyone would give him a second glance. He grinned and nodded at his reflection.

Spinning around he went to the bed and started riffling through the black bag. He was feeling a little jumpy at the thought of being so close to Hogwarts. He had to doubt in his mind that if Dumbledore caught the slightest wind that he was alive and near Harry wouldn't stand a chance. Harry was extraordinarily powerful but Dumbledore also had power by the bucket loads and had decades of experience on him. The old man would want to have him some where he could keep a close eye on him. And if there was one thing Hadrian James Potter hated above all else it was being caged up.

"_Aha!_" he crowed pulling out a pair of pure silver daggers. He twirled them expertly in his hands, reveling in the easy familiarity of the soft leather covered handle in his palm. He gripped them tightly in his hands. Tossing them an almost loving look, he set them down carefully on the desk adjacent to the bed. He lifted the hem of his gray long sleeved shirt up to his chin and reached out to pick up the daggers. A silvery light shimmered over the dagger when he grasped it. Carefully, he pressed the dagger against his left side and let go. The weapon remained stuck to his skin and with a soft incantation it disappeared from view. He placed the second dagger at the small of his back, repeated the incantation and then released his shirt.

He twisted his head to look at the clock hanging above the door. It was 4:00 pm. According to his contact at the Ministry Umbridge would be arriving at a popular new Wizarding restaurant called the Robust Newt at 5 'o clock. If he left now it would give him about an hour to survey his surroundings inconspicuously. _Show time_ he thought darkly. And with a twist of his body and a soft pop Harry Potter was gone.

* * *

_Number 12 Grimmauld Place_

A tall man with shoulder length black hair slumped morosely at a grubby kitchen table an old battered newspaper was folded reverently near him. His features held traces of past good looks but his gaunt features and skinny frame made him look like a living skeleton. Yes, the passing years had not been good to Sirius Black. He prodded a dirty cup despondently with his finger until it tipped over. It rolled around…around…and around. The crash of the cup impacting the floor broke him abruptly out of his musings. He jumped up and searched clumsily for his wand. Molly would have his head if she came and saw the mess he had made. "_Never mind that it's my own damn house."_ he thought bitterly.

He cursed the insufferable woman under his breath and decided to leave the mess as it was. If Molly had a problem with the way his house looked she could just take her fat arse back to her own measly home. And she could take her runt brats with her. Especially that Granger girl.

"Now Padfoot that's not nice." A voice scolded from the doorway.

"Oh shut _up_ Remus." Sirius sneered. He climbed back up on the stool and proceeded to pick up the battered up newspaper. He unfolded it carefully and spread it across the table.

"_Damnit_ Sirius! I've had enough of this constant brooding you've been doing for the past three bleeding years! You need to get _over_ this depression of yours." Remus Lupin snarled. The normally calm man had had enough and he was going to give Sirius a piece of his mind.

"I know how you feel, but your behavior is getting ridiculous. You're rude to everyone who so much as talks to you and the children are afraid of you. Yes, Sirius, don't think I didn't notice how you act toward them. You know I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be able to compare you to _Snape_ of all people!" Remus shouted vehemently, he seemed oblivious to the other man's growing fury.

"_**SHUT UP!" **_Sirius roared as he jumped up off the stool. His body shook violently at his friend's words. Hot anger pulsed through his veins.

"_How dare you…" _Sirius hissed, his eyes flashing dangerously. And for a moment Remus felt afraid of his long time friend. Sirius Black had been one of the best Auror trainees in the Academy back in the day.

"You don't know _anything_ about how I feel. I spent twelve fucking years in Azkaban! And what did you do? You sat on your pathetic arse doing nothing. _**NOTHING!**_" He shouted all the pain, grief, and bitterness he had bottled up spilled out of his mouth.

" Yeah, you did nothing. I was the one who spent twelve years in pure hell for a crime I didn't even commit while you sat here whining about your terrible life. _Poor_ Remus Lupin the werewolf and his _tragic_ little life." He sneered mockingly at his friend. Why couldn't he understand? Didn't he even care what had happened to Harry?

"And then I break out…I break out only to find that you bastards let my godson get murdered. And you fools don't even know how it happened. So tell me Remus did you even check up on him? Did you?" Sirius practically screamed at him, his voice held notes of insanity. He took perverse glee at Remus' flinch.

"Sirius you don't understand I-" Remus stuttered slightly over his words a flush of guilt spreading across his face.

"Bullshit! If you really cared about him you would have made sure he was safe!" Sirius growled. He stalked closer to Remus and drew his wand. He jabbed it menacingly at Remus' throat. His arm was shaking violently.

"It ate me alive in Azkaban knowing that I chose revenge over my godson. One mistake and it cost me _everything_. But I used to think that you would have made sure he went to a good home. T-hat he was happy…" His voice broke and he stared accusingly at the other man. "But you didn't. You didn't do anything you cowardly bastard." He said with renewed anger. He opened his mouth to speak again when the kitchen door slammed open and a pretty woman with a heart shaped face entered with three strips of glossy paper clutched in her hand.

"Hey guys! Guess what I…got…" she trailed off looking at the scene before her with obvious confusion and horror. Sirius gave Remus one last glare before shoving him roughly and storming out the door. The door banged closed loudly.

"Hello, Tonks. How are you?" Remus sighed wearily and rubbed his eyes with his palms. She gave him a concerned glance.

"I'm fine. Just dandy. But how are you doing, Remus? You don't look so good mate." She said peering into his eyes. "And what's up with you and Sirius?"

"I…I think I made a mistake." Remus whispered sadly. Tonks looked at him appraisingly before cycling her hair though a multitude of colors and plastering on a cheerful grin.

"Well I've got the perfect solution to get you party poopers out of your slump." She declared enthusiastically. She brandished the glossy paper she had in her hands in the older man's face.

"See these are reservation tickets into the Robust Newt! You know that new restaurant that just opened near Diagon Alley? Dumbledore already gave the go ahead. Sirius can go in his dog form so he wont be noticed." She said with blatant delight.

"I heard from Hesta that the food was brilliant and it'll do Sirius some good to get outside of this stuffy place." Tonks bounced excitedly in her seat. "So what do ya think? Huh?"

"That sounds splendid Tonks." Remus smiled weakly.

"Great I'll go tell Sirius!" She sprung up like a spring and darted out the way Sirius had gone. Remus watched her leave with tired amusement. Maybe she was right, getting out of the house might help Sirius. He looked at the creased paper sadly. Picking it up he read the title printed in bold letters across the page.

"**Boy-Who-Lived Now the Boy-Who-Died"**

_The Ministry has officially proclaimed young Harry Potter to be dead. "A tragic event indeed." Said Minister Fudge when asked for his opinion on this tragic matter-_

A loud crash echoed outside and was followed by horrid screeching.

"_**FILTH! HALF-BREEDS! MUDBLOODS! BEGONE FROM MY HOUSE!"**_

Remus sighed in exasperation. He folded the paper neatly, he could still see the large picture of a baby under the headline with startling emerald eyes laughing innocently. He shook his head. It didn't do to dwell in the past and forget to live as Dumbledore always said. He placed the paper in his shabby robes. Sirius would throw a fit if somebody threw it out. He straitened his posture and prepared to face the wrath that was Sirius Black for a second time that day.

* * *

_Robust Newt_

A large black dog lay curled up near a woman with neon pink hair. Said woman was chatting animatedly with a tired looking man in scruffy clothes. Sirius huffed in irritation. It had not taken even a minute to convince him to come. He hadn't been outside in ages so he could deal with Tonk's constant perkiness and Remus's self righteous attitude. He settled his head down on his paws and allowed himself to relax. Lazily, he observed the people in the restaurant. Their meaningless chatter buzzing through his ears. He lifted his head up when he spotted the familiar figure of Dolores Umbridge.

Sirius lifted paw to bat at Tonk's leg to get her attention. His ears twitched when he heard what they were saying. "_Bloody hell! _Were Tonks and Remus _flirting_?"he thought incredulously. _Weird and kinda creepy_ he mused. _Well bugger them_ he thought grumpily. If Umbridge decided to wander over and be her usual nasty self it wasn't his fault. He lifted his hind leg to scratch at the itchy collar those gits had insisted on putting on him.

"_Stop that Padfoot!"_ Tonks hissed as she gave him a sharp kick. He growled softy and gave her a dirty look. Tucking his tail under himself he resumed his activity of watching random people out of sheer boredom. He glanced over at Umbridge again. A rather unremarkable bloke had seated himself near her. Sirius dismissed him after a few minutes of watching to see if he did anything interesting. The minutes ticked passed slowly. Umbridge stayed where she was and Tonks and Remus continued giving each other sappy looks.

The plain boring man next to Umbridge got up and headed toward the loo. He passed their table on the way and a gust of air blew past. Sirius's head snapped up. That scent was familiar…so familiar. He flared his nostrils trying to catch it again. Could it be…? It was impossible but scents could not be faked. His eyes widened in excitement. He shifted so he was facing the entrance to the loo and waited. Millions of thoughts surged through his mind. If it really was him...what would he say? Would he hate him?

The minutes passed and he was struck with the horrid realization that it could all be a trick of his mind. Maybe he had finally gone around the bend. Harry was dead. Even Dumbledore had said so. Just as that awful depression began to sink in again the door to the loo opened and the man strode casually out and then he knew it was no delusion. The scent that was a perfect blend of James and Lily with a splash of something that was purely Harry flooded through his sensitive nose just like he remembered. Elation pumped through him and his jaw opened into a dog like grin.

Sirius eyes widened in dread as the man who smelled like Harry passed the table he was previously sitting at and headed toward the exit. His heart pumped wildly and his stomach felt like someone had dropped lead in it. He took a quick glance at Remus and Tonks. They were still talking pleasantly, having a grand old time. And without a moment's hesitation Sirius Black silently crept out from under the table. He wouldn't fail Harry this time. And with that thought in firmly in mind he dashed as stealthily as he could after Harry determined not to miss his only chance at seeing his godson.


	6. Of Dogs and Godfathers

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or anything associated with it. The Harry Potter franchise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am doing this purely for my own amusement and at no profit.

* * *

Chapter 5- Of Dogs and Godfathers

Harry briskly exited the Robust Newt some ninety minutes later, his long brown robes swishing with each step. Diagon Alley was overflowing with wizards and witches attempting to do last minute school shopping. While the large mass of people aided his attempt at anonymity, the screeching, whining brats invading the place did nothing for his temper. Harry bit back a curse as a red-faced toddler slammed into the back of his knees. He plastered on mildly pleasant expression and smiled at the harried looking mother chasing after the screaming child. His face contorted in annoyance as soon as she waddled away.

_Fuck_, he hated children with a passion. Far too noisy and they leeched at your moneybags like a dehydrated man in the middle of the Sahara. Harry scanned the bustling street for a secluded place to remove the charms he had placed on himself. Sharp eyes spied a hidden nook near the entrance to a drab, shadowed street. He flicked his eyes up to the rickety sign proclaiming the street name in peeling letters. Knockturn Alley. _Huh_. Now that looked like his kind of place. He reluctantly pulled his gaze away from it. It would be unusual at the least to see the plain, kindly man he was currently masquerading as to take a stroll down that street, calm as you please.

"Later…" Harry muttered under his breath as he took a sharp turn and bypassed the alley completely. He swiftly weaved through the throng of people like a snake though water. A particularly pompous, rat faced boy with platinum blond hair was throwing a temper tantrum near a store called Quality Quiddich Supplies. He winced in sympathy for the storeowner who wore a mask of forced pleasantry and patience.

"I'm very sorry Mr. Malfoy, but as I told you before we've run out of—" The man explained lowly, obviously trying not to cause a scene.

"Well then get some more. I don't know what kind of place you're running but when my father finds out--- " The pointy faced kid interrupted arrogantly. He was the epitome of a spoiled child. He probably never had to work for anything in his life, Harry thought with disgust.

Unable to resist, Harry deftly twisted his way closer and bumped past the ugly brat. Harry snatched the rather large velvet bag of gold hanging on the boy's hip with a quick practiced maneuver. The boy remained blissfully oblivious. Shoving the bag into the deep pockets of his shabby robes, he stifled a grin and backtracked toward the shadowed corner he had seen earlier. Really the kid had practically been begging to be pick pocketed. What kind of idiot announces he's loaded with gold in the middle of a busy street? It was times like this Harry was extremely grateful he never went to Hogwarts. He had zero tolerance for stupidity and naiveté. He probably would have cursed the unsuspecting idiots the first day.

Harry casually leaned against a clothing shop called Twilfit and Tattings. As soon as a crowd passed him, he slipped unnoticed behind the building. He scrunched his nose up in disgust. The alley reeked of piss and sewage. The small shop probably couldn't afford a permit to install those nifty garbage disposal crates and self-sanitary charms. It was most likely only in its first year of business he thought idly. Harry ducked behind a pile of musty wooden boxes. He shoved his fingers under the collar of his shirt to pull out a simple necklace with a red bead about the size of a marble. He tugged it roughly over his head, wincing slightly when it caught on his nose.

"Son of a bitch!" he huffed in irritation while rubbing his sore nose. He threw the necklace a sour look.

With a twist of his wrist, Harry's wand fell into his hand and he then proceeded to murmur several long incantations in multiple languages. His words were often punctuated with subtle flicks and swirls of his wand. Slowly the dull brown hair lengthened and bled away to dark ebony. Unobtrusive features shifted and melted into a dark masculine beauty. He grunted in pain as his bones shifted and elongated. Sharp spikes racked through him until they slowly stuttered to a stop. Panting, Harry forced his weary muscles to move and pulled himself up. His joints cracked loudly and he had a cramp in his legs. He stumbled forward but luckily managed to catch himself. His center of balance was seriously off. It was times like this that he really wished he were a metamorphmagus. Damn them and their stupid self-transfiguration, he thought sulkily. Most of the more unsavory transfiguration spells and charms were far more effective but they hurt like a bitch and could only be held for so long before they had to be renewed.

With a careless flick of his wand the brown robes grew to fit his new height and darkened to black. He rolled his shoulders to get the stiffness out and turned around to face the exit. Tugging the large hood over his head and silently casting a charm to obscure his face, Harry slipped out of the dank alley. With a calculating survey of the rowdy witches and wizards, Harry entered Knockturn Alley.

* * *

Knockturn Alley could and would never be considered for Witch Weekly's Most Pristine Shopping Center to say the least. The air was heavy with the scent of rot and shifty looking characters shuffled from store to store. Most of the shops looked to be in poor condition at best. Faded letters marked the shops' names and most seemed to suffer from decade old paint peeling off the walls like a snake sheds its skin.

The deeper in he wandered the shops grew more bold and the people more comfortable. They obviously had less to fear being farther away from the patrolling Aurors roaming Diagon Alley. In a shadowy corner he saw a woman with hawkish features and hard black eyes. Her filthy robes were hiked up around her hips and long skinny legs clung around a sweaty walrus like man. She flashed her rotten teeth at him in what he supposed she thought was a seductive look. His lip curled up in revulsion at her antics but wasn't much bothered about the obscene display. After all once you have had the misfortune to walk in on two hags going at it like dogs in heat everything else seemed pretty tame. He cringed at the memory and tried in vain to banish it from his mind.

Shrewd green eyes scanned the winding road for anything of interest. He strolled by the shop windows amusing himself with the various odd objects for sale. Now where was that place Marie had mentioned? He tilted his head up to read the shop names. Borgins and Burkes. Apothecary. Blue Moon. Ah there it was, he thought with relief. For a second there he had thought he misread the directions. It was on unassuming building much like all the other shops on the street. Deep cracks ran up the sides of the stone building and the windows were caked with so much grime it made it impossible to see inside. He curled his fingers over the dull brass doorknob and pushed the battered door open.

The sweet intoxicating scent of herbs and spices hit his sensitive nose. The interior was substantially better than the outside. Lanterns cast the room in a warm glow and people chatted merrily with each other. The tense lines eased from their faces as they allowed themselves to relax in a familiar environment. At his entrance their heads jerked up, nostrils flared. Bodies tensed in preparation to defend or attack. But behind the fierce expressions he could see the fear that lurked in the depths of their eyes.

He chuckled derisively, observing their pathetic attempt to defend their territory. If he truly wished to he could have had them all smeared across the floor in a gory splatter. Unfazed, he boldly walked up to the bar with the smooth gait of a prowling wolf. His hood cast his face into the darkness. And the very shadows pulled lovingly on the hem of his cloak. He slammed he palms down on the bar with enough force to rattle it.

"Bartender." He snarled harshly at the amber-eyed man. The frail looking man flinched back slightly at his tone. "I'm looking for one of your brethren. Perhaps you can aid me…?" The man's fear rolled off him in heady waves. The other dogs were still crouched down as if to attack. Their emaciated bodies trembled almost unnoticeably, their eyes wide and feral. They hadn't moved an inch. He sneered. Weak cowards, the lot of them.

"I-I- what are y-you doing here, Wizard? We don't want your kind here." The sickly werewolf managed to force out with false bravado. His bony hands were clenched on the bar with a white knuckled grip.

"I don't give a damn what you lot do or don't want, you insipid fool." He said dangerously, his dark green eyes glinting in anger. He slid his hand casually into his robes and pulled out a curved sliver blade. He brushed his fingers down the blade absentmindedly. In a smooth gesture, Harry thrust the dagger at the man's pale throat. The point came to stop mere centimeters from the shivering man's jugular.

"Just answer me this, _sir_: Does Fenrir Greyback come here often?" He questioned silkily thoroughly enjoying the man's fine tremors of pure terror as he eyed the silver knife.

"Sometimes." The werewolf gasped, sweat beading on his forehead. Harry flicked his wrist sharply and a plain envelope materialized in his hands.

"Good. Good. The next time you see _dear_ Fernir I want you to give him this." Harry said briskly, slapping the envelope on the bar counter. "Do _not_ open it."

"And trust me, I'll know if you open it." And with that last threat he exited the Blue Moon, the dusty door slammed shut behind him with a deafening bang.

* * *

"_Well, that went surprisingly well_." Harry thought with satisfaction. He was still riding on the power high he received from the encounter. Power thrummed gently just beneath the surface of his skin. Surges of electricity skidded up and down his spine pleasurably. He relished in the wary stares he was gaining from the occupants on the street. They were right to fear him.

Tugging the heavy cloak around him more tightly, Harry increased his pace. The sun was beginning to set, casting the sky in purple and red smudges. The evening air had lost the humid heaviness it had in the afternoon replacing it with a cool chill breeze. Harry blinked in mild confusion at the weather change. He had assumed it would be hotter at this time of the year in Britain. Strange weather aside, everything was going pretty damn smoothly is he did say so himself. Nobody had yet to point an accusing finger at him and yowl "Hey! It's the Boy-Who-Lived back from the dead, bitches! Let's worship him and all his divine glory!"

So far everything had gone to plan. It had helped that few, if any believed him to be alive after the article published in the Daily Prophet several years ago. It had announced that Harry Potter's meager remains had been discovered washed up on the coast of Ireland. Wasn't Necromancy grand? It had taken him ages to find someone willing to teach him the art but it was worth it. Very few announced that they practiced any form of the Dark Arts these days. It was a pity; it made things much more difficult for him. Oh well, he thought sardonically, just have to up the paranoia. Better safe than sorry. With that thought he headed deeper into the alley. It would be suspicious to go wandering into Diagon Alley this late; he would have to take the back exit Marie told him about.

Harry's back stiffened and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. His magic flared up in preparation to defend or attack. Somebody was following him. He showed no indication of noticing his pursuer except for a slight falter in his step. Fury bubbled deep in his chest, he shoved in down roughly. It wouldn't do for his anger to cloud his judgment. Subtly, he glanced out of the corner of his eyes. Sharp viridian eyes quickly assessed the surroundings. There were only three exits that he knew of and all of them were a fair distance away. Anti-Apparition wards hung heavily in then air so that escape route was out. Suddenly an idea struck him and a bloodthirsty smile spread across his face.

Keeping his casual pace, Harry slid in through the gap between the Potions shop and wand shop. The cobble road tapered off to a winding dirt path that snaked between the backs of the buildings. He stood in plain view with his back turned. To the casual observer it looked as if he was merely reading the crooked street sign. Boxes fell over noisily as his pursuer fumbled after him. Amateurs…that was kind of insulting now that he thought of it. This person obviously had no concept of stealth and they expected to get the drop on him? What did they take him for a novice or something? Anticipation curled low in is stomach. Closer…closer…

In an inhumanly fast movement, Harry spun around and fell into his favored dueling position with feline grace. A brutal Flesh Rotting curse was on the tip of his tongue. Only to come face to face with a rather skeletal black dog. The dog yelped at his actions and stumbled over its paws. It fell in an ungraceful heap at Harry's feet staring at him with wide dark blue eyes.

"What the fuck?" Harry questioned in sheer disbelief. Maybe Marie was right about his paranoia. He made a mental note never to tell her about it. She'd mock him for decades if she ever found out he thought some stray dog was plotting his murder.

Cautiously, Harry crouched down next to the animal. It was staring at him intently, almost if it was trying to memorize his every feature. Suspicion wormed in his mind eliminating any sense of ease he previously had. The animal's eyes were almost too human like to be just a stray dog. He slid his fingers through the coarse fur at the scruff of its neck. The dog thumped its tail happily; unaware of the wand Harry clutched behind his back. In a flash, Harry ruthlessly tightened his grip on the tuft of fur in his hand and shoved the tip of his wand under the dog's muzzle. Dark blue eyes widened in pain and horror.

"_Animagus Reverto_" Harry intoned quietly. There was a bight flash of light surrounding the dog. The animal twisted and curled on to itself as the spell took effect. Dark shaggy fur receded and limbs lengthened. Slowly the form of a thin man took shape. Black hair fell to his shoulders and he looked as if he hadn't had a decent meal in a while. The man sat slumped on the wet ground panting.

"_Owww…_" he groaned sliding a hand through his hair. "You could have just asked. There's no need to be mean."

"Who the hell are you?" Harry snapped, his wand still pointed unwaveringly at the stranger's heart. He was still kind of miffed somebody had the audacity to try and track him down. A broad grin formed on the gaunt man's face. He didn't seem the least bothered that a wand was being pointed accusingly at him.

"I'm Sirius Black." He proclaimed confidently. His eyes were hungrily drinking in the young man standing before him.

"Sirius Black…I've heard that name somewhere." Harry's brows furrowed slightly. He took in Black's thin frame and haunted eyes hidden behind the mischief. There was something distinctly familiar about him but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what. He stifled a growl of frustration.

"Yeah! Lots of people have heard of me. I'd be damn surprised if you never had heard my name." Black replied somewhat arrogantly. "I'm famous." He grinned but there was a touch of bitterness lining his words. He looked down at the wand pointed at him as if he just noticed it. Perhaps he had. Sirius blinked in surprise.

"Kinda trigger happy aren't you?" Sirius asked arching an eyebrow. He still had a drunkenly happy grin plastered on his face. "I'm not going to attack you, you know. I promise."

" Not going to pull a fast one on me, huh?" Harry said candidly. "What do you take me for? _Stupid_?" The tip of his wand began to glow with a dark violet light. The man's eyes widened fearfully.

"Now wait! Wait! I swear! I'm not trying to off you or something---I can explain!" Black exclaimed with a tinge of panic. His arms flailed comically as if to ward off the spell.

"You've got two minutes, mate." Harry gave a canine smile at the man's antics. "If you give me a satisfactory explanation I'll _consider_ letting you go in one piece."

"I'm you're godfather!" Sirius blurted out. " I caught your scent at the restaurant. And-and I recognized it so I decided to follow you. I just wanted to see if it was really you. And maybe t-talk to you. That's all I swear on my magic!"

Shock filtered through the dark haze that only Black magic could bring. He had a godfather? Slowly the fog cleared from his bloodlust filled mind. This could pose a problem, he thought with slight worry. If this man was who he said he was then Sirius Black definitely knew his true name. And if he knew anything about his parents they were Dumbledore's lap dogs through and through. So surely their friends were in deep with Dumbledore too. Suddenly a thought struck him and brought back the white-hot anger with a vengeance. The desire to kill pulsed deep within him.

"…read it in the news paper. It was right next to the chocolate frog ad. Don't you just love those ads? I think the dancing frog one is …" Sirius trailed off when he saw look of utter fury on his godson's face. His face contorted in befuddlement.

"Are you the cock sucking bastard who got me sent to the Dursleys?" Harry snarled viciously. He shoved his wand harshly into the other man's chest. Gold and black sparks flew off the tip and singed the other man's robes. Sirius flinched at his words a look of despair crossing his face.

"Well are you?" Harry barked at him. He sent out a tendril of magic to prod at the other man's mind. Bloody hell, he thought with surprise. The man's mind looked as if it had been trampled over by a herd of hippogriffs.

" You have to understand Harry. I-I wasn't thinking clearly that night." Sirius pleaded. "Merlin…I remember it like it was yesterday. They don't let you forget things like that." A dark emotion swept across Sirius' eyes. A burning lust for revenge. Harry knew the look all to well. He thrust his magic deeper into the oblivious man's mind as he talked.

"…Found James first. Yeah…wasn't a pretty sight. Looked like a dragon had had a party there. Firewhiskey and all." Sirius' voice cracked lightly and he shuffled around uncomfortably, eyes darting around like a trapped dog.

" Then Lily…and oh Merlin I've never wanted to kill somebody so bad. Not even Snivellus…the bastard." He sneered and dug his nails into the soft dirt. Hatred flashed through his eyes.

Harry flicked though Sirius' memories picking out relevant information and discarding the useless. So far Black had stuck to the truth. Apparently he really was his godfather. A dark fortress surrounded in an aura of despair materialized in front of his eyes. The soul shattering screams of the damned echoed through his ears painfully. Azkaban, he thought with a shudder.

"…so everyone thought I was the traitor. They made Peter out to be some sort of martyr and shoved me in a cell for twelve years. I tried to tell them the truth but everyone was so eager to believe the worst of me. Poor, dear little Peter would never betray the Potters they said…_hah_!"

A short pudgy man swam into view and then a small grey rat scampering down into the sewers. Hatred in its purest form enveloped the older man's mind. A tired man with amber eyes and ratty robes came next. Guilt…bitterness…anger…resentment…

Black didn't seem all to fond of this bloke, Harry mused. He couldn't help being impressed by the man. After all it took balls to break out of Azkaban. Sirius had proven himself to be loyal too and that made up slightly for his impulsiveness.

" So do you believe me?" Sirius asked hopefully. Harry assessed the man shrewdly for several minutes. Sirius fidgeted at the prolonged silence. Harry cocked his head to the side and then answered carefully.

"Yes…I believe you."

Sirius whooped in glee and gave Harry a broad smile. In his excitement he missed the calculating gleam in Harry's eyes.

* * *

"So Mr. Black, you have anything to do for the next couple of hours?" Harry asked, his voice tinged with amusement. Sirius was practically vibrating with suppressed energy.

"Call me Sirius." He said brightly. " Mr. Black makes me feel ancient, as in _Dumbledore _ancient."

"And to answer your question no I don't have anything to do. I am _frreeeee_" He said in a sing song voice.

"That's nice." Harry said dryly. "So I was thinking if you don't have anything to do we could _ah_…get to know each other." Despite Sirius' almost sickenly cheerful attitude he could definitely prove to be useful.

"Really? That would be brilliant." Sirius stomped a foot into a nearby puddle splashing dirty water all over the hem of his robes. Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"We'll talk at my flat, it's near by." Harry said absentmindedly gazing up at the darkening sky.

"You have a flat?" Sirius asked incredulously.

"Did I not just say I did?" He drawled. " And before you ask no I don't live with anyone." They walked down the cobbled road until they came upon a stone archway. Balled up newspapers littered the ground and the stone was chipping away with age. Past the arch was a what seemed to be a dead end. Harry grabbed Sirius by the elbow roughly and with a soft pop they disappeared.

They landed in a nicely furnished hall. The walls were painted a warm burgundy and flickering candles lined the walls.

"Ugh…a little warning next time please." Sirius groaned as he pushed himself up from where he had landed in an ungraceful heap.

"Not my fault you're such a pussy." Harry replied flippantly, tossing him a smirk. Sirius glared half heartedly at him. He looked around in interest at the modestly sized place.

"Nice…" Sirius said looking impressed. "But then again that's not much coming from me. You should see my house it's horrid."

Harry gestured at Sirius to follow him into the sitting room. Sirius' eyes widened in pleasure when he spied the squashy brown chairs. He shoved past his godson and flopped into the nearest one sighing.

"Please have a seat…" Harry muttered under his breath sarcastically. He wandered over to the next chair and sat down. Something that had been nudging at the back of his mind came forward.

" Why didn't you capture or kill Pettigrew when you were at Hogwarts?" Harry asked curiously. After all it would have made sense to capture the rat and turn him over to Dumbledore. "Or was this another one of your insane moments where all reason is wiped from your mind?" Harry grinned at Sirius.

"Oh shut up!" Sirius laughed before his face darkened. " I almost had him. He was masquerading as one of the Weasley kid's pet for over a decade."

"Wait a minute, Pettigrew was living in some Wizarding home? With kids? That's kinda perverted if you think about it." Sirius gave a bark like laugh.

"You know now that you mention it is pretty weird. I suppose he had to get his jollies off something though. After all he couldn't just up and transform into a man. He was supposed to be dead."

"Who knows maybe he fucked all those sexy female rats that wandered into the house." Sirius scrunched up his face in disgust and amusement at Harry's remark.

"_Gross_…Now I have that mental image seared into my brain, thank you very much." Sirius shook his head vigorously as if it would dispel the image.

"Anyway, I managed to lure the Weasley boy to this old shack in Hogsmade, but unfortunately his nosy friend followed and then Remus a while later." He grumbled in annoyance.

"I was all set to peel the flesh from the sniveling traitor's bones. I had the curse and everything!" Sirius whined childishly.

" Then that little snot nosed brat had to ruin it." He glared murderously at the wooden table in front of him. _"Oh no! You can't kill him! He's a human being!"_ Sirius mocked in a high falsetto.

"She threw such a fit I couldn't concentrate. And by the time I got her to shut the hell up good ole' Snape turns up smug as you please. And well, I already told you what happened next."

" Ah well life sucks and then you die." Harry said in mock sympathy, shaking his head. He regarded the other man for a second before coming to a decision. His eyes glowed in dark mischief.

"Hey Sirius, I have an idea…"

**Next Chapter: The Life of a Pureblood**: In which the Pureblood society is delved into and Daphne Greengrass is not amused.


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